Willie (1988-2017)

Willie (Photo by John Carroll)

There he was sitting in front of me. A smiling mischievous blue boy in the little mountain hospital clinic in rural Haiti. With his very caring and concerned mother from Port-au-Prince. It is 1999 and the boy is 11 years old. And his name is Willie.

Willie’s mother says that he can not keep up with the other kids and can not go to school. He doesn’t have the energy.

When I ask Willie what he likes to do, he says he sits in his yard in Canape Vert and digs a hole with a stick and then fills up the hole with the dirt. But that is ok. He is happy with his mom and his little sister Veronique.

The Peoria cardiologists reviewed Willie’s echocardiogram repeatedly for many months. They said he deserves a chance. Bring him.

On the American Airlines flight out of Haiti in 1999, I had five kids with me. All had bad hearts. The flight attendant put gray plastic wings over the left side of their chests above their hearts. Willie was seated in the row behind me. I looked back as Wilie was getting his wings, and for some reason, she put the wings over the right side of his chest. I wondered: How did she know?

How did she know that Willie was born with his heart in the right side of his chest instead of in the normal position in the left side of his chest? Plus his heart was twisted on itself with holes and great vessels draining from abnormal places which gave him his blue color. How would the flight attendant know this?

In November 1999, Willie had major heart surgery on the most complex heart in the world. As we scrubbed our hands before the case, the heart surgeon asked me if Willie’s mother in Haiti knew the risks of the organized assault that was going to happen in a few minutes on her son. I assured him that she understood and was accepting.

Five months later, against all medical odds, Willie walked out of intensive care to his host family’s arms. His smile and mischevious look had returned. His days would be happy again and chatting with Sammy Sosa, his island cousin, was indeed very cool.

Willie returned to Haiti after his recovery. We kept in touch with him and in 2004 his pacemaker battery life ended. Willie’s exam in Haiti was scary with a heart that wouldn’t beat fast enough. He couldn’t walk well due to lack of oxygen. And amazingly the hospital who rejects no one would not accept Willie back to put in a new pacemaker–even with full price offered for this intervention.

We looked hard and found another medical center who said they would give Willie a new pacemaker for 5,000 US dollars. Passport, visa, flight, and new pacemaker happened quickly. Willie was good again.

Post-pacemaker Willie stayed with Maria and me. We walked and ran on the Rock Island Trail. And a blue bird was seen in the green bushes on the trail which made us know things were good.

Willie was accepted by a large American, Mexican, and Haitian family all wrapped in one. And they wrapped Willie in love.

The years went by and Willie’s heart eventually needed more surgery. But now he had insurance and the original hospital accepted Willie back. The lost Haitian statue of Mary returned and looked over Willie in Intensive Care and a Peoria judge visited the hospital and adjudicated at Willie’s adoption.

Willie survived his second massive heart surgery…but his kidneys didn’t. So his adoptive family became experts at “renal replacement therapy” at home and Willie pressed forward. And his pacemaker needed to be replaced two more times as an outpatient. But, for Willie, that was easy.

Last year Willie’s body became tired. And the other day his brothers gently carried him into the hospital for the last time. Willie was alert and agreed to discontinue the flogging and to accept palliation. He was brought home where his adoptive siblings of all different colors sat by his bed until the end.

Willie’s Haitian mom and a grown up Veronique were notified of Willie’s passing. They are devastated but understand better than most that death is part of life.

This young man taught all of us a lot. He taught doctors and nurses how to be better care givers. He taught us about courage. And he also taught us to never count out anyone no matter where they are born.

Children are frequently called special–but Willie really was. There was something about him. We figure he probably died sometime during his medical saga years ago….and came back. And he wouldn’t tell us where he had been.

Willie was blessed to have you in his corner, John. I am sure your influence in his life contributed to the wonderful young man he turned out to be. May God bring comfort and peace to all who loved him.